Page 32 of Blood Spilled
Twenty-three
Santiago
I blink my eyes open. Everything's dark and I'm tossing around in what appears to be a trunk. I slam my fists against the top. The last thing I remember is falling asleep after watching Angel walk out the front door of his house. At first, I feared being put back in the cage, but this is much worse. Where could he be taking me? I should have left when I had the chance.
Once again, he baited me, and I let him. I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Why'd I believe he could actually want me after everything I've done? Who could ever really want someone like me? He's probably on his way to feed me to the wolves for all I know.
My body aches and I hate the reminders left from what we previously shared together. I hate the plug that's still shoved in my ass, pushing its way up further every time the car moves too fast or goes over a bump. I try to move on my side, seeking relief,but end up being tossed on my back when another sharp turn is taken.
I gave him more of myself and for what? To end up locked away again in a trunk that smelled of blood and mildew. How many men have been in this same place as me on their way to death? I bang harder against the thick metal. The car takes a sharp turn, causing me to roll back onto my side. My wrists and ankles are tied up. I roll to my back again and slam both feet against the trunk, causing the car to shake. It stops and I go still, clenching my teeth in anticipation.
If it wasn't so dark maybe I could find a lever somewhere to pop open the trunk. A door slams, and I know someone has exited the car.
When the trunk pops open, I expect to see Angel's mocking smile, but instead it's one of his men. The one who still bears marks on his neck from when I tried to strangle him with my chains. His face hardens and his smile sends an unsettling shiver down my spine. It's no longer friendly the way it was before.
“You're an annoying little shit you know that. If anything, Angel should be thanking me for ridding him of you. You should have been the one our mother got rid of, not me and my brother. You are weak and a burden to your whole family. Then you go and fall for the enemy.” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “Don’t think I didn't figure it out.”
I try to speak, but my throat is too raw and dry. He laughs. “Save your words. Don't waste what little energy you have, little brother.”
My eyes widen at those words and I realize he said something before that about ‘our mother.’ I don't have any brothers as far as I know, but knowing my family, I wouldn't be surprised if what he is saying is true. Then I reminisce about the times my father and mother would fight. How she would throw everything shegave up for him in his face, along with all he took from her. How he took ‘them’ from her. Had she meant children?
He runs his hand through his hair, pulling out a cloth from his pocket. “I think it's time for you to go back to sleep, hermano. I can't have you making all that noise while I'm driving down the road. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll answer all your questions. Since clearly our mother has failed to mention us to you. Or maybe I'll just take you to your new buyer now.”
Bile rises up my throat as my heart beats in fear. He's selling me. To whom? Before I can object, he shoves the cloth over my nose and mouth. My eyes grow heavy and everything goes black.
My lids flutter open at the sound of gun shots. People are screaming and the ground is moving beneath me, and that's when I realize I'm being carried in someone's arms with a hood over my head. I get shoved into what feels like the backseat of a car and the shouting becomes muffled.
The car moves and two men are speaking in Spanish about dropping me off where they were told to. They go on about the possibility of being followed. I don't recognize any of the voices. They keep mentioning their boss, but there are no specifics connecting this person to anyone I may know.
Am I being taken back to Angel? Or was I just collected for my buyer? I'm not sure I'm ready to know the answer to that question. My ass bounces on the seat as the car goes over a speed trap reminding me the plug is still in there. The cool air circulating in the small space has my body shivering since I'm still naked. I often forget due to hardly ever wearing clothes while in Angel's care.
The car stops and my heart skyrockets, pounding loud in my ears when the back door opens. Someone yanks me out of the car, smelling of cigars and vanilla.
“He's awake,” one of the men says.
The other responds with a deep, raspy voice, “Good. He can walk this time.”
I get shoved to my feet, a sack still over my head with my wrists and ankles still tied. I struggle against the restraints, trying my best to loosen their grip around me. Someone slams a gun to my head. “Stop that.” He cuts the ropes free from my ankles, but the ones on my wrists remain.
I’m too woozy from the hard blow to fight. A blanket is being wrapped around my body and I’m relieved to no longer be completely exposed to a bunch of strangers. “Walk forward.”
I move in the direction I'm being pushed in, the hot concrete burning my feet. I'm outside. The sun heats my skin and a bit of light seeps in through the thin material wrapped around my head.
“Where to?” a voice asks from behind me.
“She said to take him to the back. The fewer people who know he's here the better.”
I get shoved forward and nearly trip over a few steps leading to a front porch made of concrete. “Lift your feet, boy.”
A door opens and someone's gasps are mixed with sobbing sounds. They sound like they are coming from a woman. The cover is being pulled off my head. My mother pulls me into her arms, not caring about my lack of clothing or the fact that I've been laying in the hot sun in a dirty, foul smelling trunk.
“Oh, mijo. I thought you were dead.” She takes a step back, placing her hands on my cheeks. “What has this man done to you in only three months time? Look at you, you no longer look like my son.” Tears pour from her eyes and I've never known her to be this good of an actor. Never has she shown any kind of remorse when the suffering came from my father. She guides me further into the house.
I’m taken aback by her words. Have I really been gone for three months? Although it felt like a lifetime, I assumed it was more than a month.
“Why is my son still tied in ropes? He shouldn't be tied up like some captive. He's a Morales.”
One of the nearby men hands her a pocket knife and she cuts through the ropes. I flex my wrists. She turns behind her to a woman I've never seen before. “Claudia, please take my son to his room. Help him get cleaned up.”
